


A Matter of Feeling

by ghswk



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Empath Reader, F/M, Loki (Marvel) Feels, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Loki is frustrated, Reader is not helping, SHIELD Agent Reader (Marvel), Sexual Tension, There will be tension of course, slight smut if you squint
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:42:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24245968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghswk/pseuds/ghswk
Summary: It could have been worse, waking up in the middle of nowhere in the heart of a meteor impact site with S.H.I.E.L.D. agents surrounding you. It could have been far worse, you supposed, than being assigned to guard Loki's Scepter on the helicarrier. But it was downright awful having to figure out how exactly to distract the God of Mischief in battle to ensure his re-capture.But the god was still a man, right?*no longer a one-shot
Relationships: Loki (Marvel) & Original Female Character(s), Loki (Marvel) & Reader, Loki (Marvel)/Original Female Character(s), Loki (Marvel)/Reader
Comments: 16
Kudos: 68





	1. Chapter 1

One of your first memories was the feeling of crunching rock beneath your back, the frissoning heat resonating through your skin cells as a reminder that you were alive, alive, alive. There was the gun pointed in your face as well. 

There are other first memories, of the time before, fleeting impressions like a painting with the subject cut out. There are hands holding your head so tight you feel like bursting, the wetness of cheeks and salt trickling down your lips and chin, and the desperate echo of a prayer. These are things that are the oiled underbrush and strokes of sky that leave you to wonder, what is not there? 

But in the beginning, there were rocks and heat and a gun. Multiple guns. The easy smile and handshake of a man you will know to be Phil Coulson. 

There was no reason to be alarmed, Coulson had told you, other than the fact that you had woken up with no recollection of how you got at a meteor site with pulsating energy that had alerted their systems to the max. Six months ago, the same sort of situation had resulted in them apparently finding a god. You certainly were no deity. 

You were an empath.

Emotions fell upon you like waves of energy, you had told them. You could sense them and their pull. You could redirect them, manipulate them, and if one was weak-minded enough, will them to follow the desires you pushed upon them. This was hardly a particular power, though you didn’t know why you were so sure of this fact, but the admission brought you to another man by the name of Nick Fury.

It was not that Fury was unimpressed, per se, but after surviving such a fall from the sky, perhaps he had been hoping for another sky god. To his credit, he hid it well for a human. But despite the meager traces of disappointment, his overwhelming sense of curiosity prickled your skin. As a nonclassified entity, he had explained, you were ordered to stay with S.H.I.E.L.D. 

Had you even been given the opportunity for freedom, you were not sure you would have taken it. The journey to S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters had been utterly bewildering, taken from ground machine to flying machine to gleaming building, a blur of deep browns, lush greens, the most piercing shade of cerulean and white, and then every shade of gray and silver reflecting sky and ground. This was different. You felt a tense sort of exhilaration thrumming in your bones as your face remained glued to every literal window of opportunity. Different from what, you did not know. 

No, you would stay here, you determined. You had sensed that for all the black clothing and stoic expressions of every S.H.I.E.L.D. agent you met, none had meant you harm. In those next weeks, S.H.I.E.L.D. offered you lodging, meals, safety, knowledge, and training. Lots and lots of training. 

Training to act as an assistant to a covert response team Director Fury had been building up. 

“Me?” you asked, “as an assistant...Avenger?” 

“Romanoff has been assisting your training, has she not?” Director Fury did not look up from the datapad in his hands. 

“She has,” you said. You had nothing but immense respect for the agile and striking agent, almost a human empath herself in the ease at which she dissected her environment. 

“It’s about time you met the others as well then.” 

“Others?” You could not help but echo every statement he made. “There are others like me?” 

“Not _quite_ like you. Come on, let’s get you on the helicarrier.” 

The stress was overwhelming. The helicarrier was teeming with employees, teeming with anxiety and nerves, and a crushing sense of urgency that you leaned against a handrail upon entering the showcase of engineering genius. You let out a shaky breath. What was going on? 

Director Fury led you down an endless procession of hallways before opening the door to a wide, round room riddled with machinery and people. At the center was a raised platform holding a roundtable where a couple of men, some in the oddest of garish uniforms, and a familiar redhead conversing heatedly. 

Natasha walked over from the table, calling out your name. “It’s good to see you. How are you doing?”

You smiled at her, feeling your hands shake from the tension in the carrier. “Just a little overwhelmed,” you managed to get out. There would need to be hours of meditation later. A good empath was nothing without control over their own emotions. 

Familiar with your powers from your training sessions together, she nodded sympathetically. “Yeah, there’s a lot of people on this thing.” 

“Come on, let’s introduce you to everyone,” Director Fury gruffed. 

You met Steve, a flawless specimen of perfect bone structure with an excruciating sense of loss and determination. You met Doctor Banner, a soft-eyed, dark-haired man with an even more excruciating sense of anguish that seemed to be at constant ends with an equal sense of rage. You met Thor, who crackled with the energy of his namesake that put your hairs on the ends of itself. This was what it felt to be in the presence of a god, you thought wondrously. You met Tony, who buzzed and whizzed with a similar vitality, though you instinctively knew the two men would detest the comparison. 

But they were all burdened with sadness in their own way, even Natasha as well as she disguised it, that you wondered if the same would soon happen to you too. 

_Do you not mourn already?_ Something asked deep inside of you.

But Director Fury began briefing you about a stolen _Tesseract_ , an enemy like they’ve never seen before, the brother of a god and king who had disappeared with an artifact to subjugate Earth, and the haunting feeling quickly shook off for fear. Earth was at war and you were a soldier. Well, an assistant soldier, whatever that meant. 

Director Fury spoke your name. “We found her at a crater site, no recollection of how she got there. No relation to you, Thor?” It was as close to a joke you’ve heard from the somber man. 

“None, though I am pleased to make your acquaintance, my lady,” Thor said rather gallantly. 

“It’s nice to meet you all. I’m an empath,” you offered. 

“What does that mean?” Doctor Banner asked. You raised a hand gently, head tilted to the side. He nodded. You closed your eyes, siphoning off the storming waves of his anger and drank it in. What a monstrous anger it was, you marveled, so unlike the man you saw in front of you. You felt a little green at the consumption and stopped, deciding instead to push a strong bolt of happiness his way. Doctor Banner let out a delightful laugh, rich and hearty. It was the first time he had looked so giddy upon entering the strange aircraft. 

“I see,” he breathed out, expression a little lighter than it used to be. 

Steve stared at you thoughtfully. “You can control all emotions?” 

“To my knowledge, yes,” you said, nodding, “I haven’t encountered an emotion unknown to me so far.” 

“Just how many individuals can you...influence at a time?” Director Fury had jumped back into the conversation, the sole dark eye fixated intently on you. 

“I don’t know.” 

“You should tell them what you can do to weak-willed men,” Natasha teased and you felt embarrassed. Part of your training with her had been to extend the strength of your will imparted onto others, the victims namely being clueless S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. The redhead relayed her delight in watching you spar with agents only to find that their punch had turned to land on their own face or trip over their own feet. 

Director Fury was appraising you. “Interesting. I didn’t realize that was part of your powers.” Neither had you, really. “If that’s the case, maybe you can manipulate Loki to be a more docile _guest_.” 

Part of you surmised that was a feat more easily accomplished on human men rather than a god, but you acquiesced all the same. After weeks of training and feeling particularly useless at the S.H.I.E.L.D. base, you found that you wanted to prove your worth on this team. Still, the question remained. “Guest?” 

The nearby screens flickered on to a curved glass case that held a dark-haired man dressed in long dark green and black robes. He stood quite still but straight at the cameras as if he knew someone was watching. 

“He is my brother,” Thor added somberly, the touch of a frown shadowing his features. 

Natasha stared at you meaningfully, adding, “And he killed eighty people in two days.” 

Thor sighed. “As I said, adopted.” His voice was light yet hollow. 

They continued the conversation before you had entered in, jumping straight back into the particulars of portal manipulation. Tony and Doctor Banner shortly exited the room to discuss something far beyond your understanding--although to be fair, the whole room seemed to be in agreement. You weren't really sure what to make of yourself, but you trailed after Director Fury, who wanted a progress update on the location of the Tesseract. 

For a supposed crisis response team, you thought, they certainly created enough internal crises. You weren't sure if you even had clearance access to be in this room as the bitter diatribe broke out amongst the group. They couldn’t see the stifling miasma of paranoia swamp the air but you did. You send out a desperate wave of calm but it did little as Doctor Banner picked up the scepter and everyone’s hands drew cautiously to their weapons. Everyone stared nervously at Doctor Banner but you fixated intently on crystalline ice of the scepter that bled something acrid and foul. The miasma came from the scepter, you realized with alarm.

Before you could voice your concerns, everything exploded. 

You woke to a splintering headache and a high pitched ringing. You sat up slowly with a groan, noting the gaping hole in the center of the room and shattered glass. The sense of panic throughout the vehicle was overwhelming and you tampered it down. Director Fury was splayed out flat in front of you. “Director Fury,” you cried, wincing as you made your way over to him. 

To your surprise, he sat up furiously, shaking his head. “Hill!” he shouted, touching his ear. Director Fury stared up at you, panting heavily. You pulled him up slowly. “We’ve been breached by enemy men, probably Loki’s. Head to the control room.” 

“Director Fury, the scepter poisons the mind of the wielder,” you blurted out before you lost the nerve. He stopped as he leaned against a handrail. “I can see the effect it has on people and--and I think I can negate it.” You stopped in bewilderment, not sure how exactly you knew but that you felt it with certainty. 

The director cursed, leaning against the handrail. “Goddamn scepter,” he muttered. Director Fury barked your name and you stood tall to attention. “Nevermind _negating_ \--this is your first mission. Protect the scepter at all costs. Do not let Loki get a hold of it. And for God’s sake, turn your comms on.” He tapped the side of his head before turning around to rush off.

“Yes sir!” you called out after him. With shaking hands, you slipped the black earpiece in place, cursing yourself for not having it on earlier. In the rush of entering the helicarrier you had completely forgot a basic foundational rule. And yet somehow you were meant to protect _this_? 

Your heart beat wildly as you were left alone with the pulsating staff, still fixed onto the table where Doctor Banner had left it. It called out to you longingly. What a vile, wretched thing it was. Your fingers hovered over the glistening gem, watching with fascination as its black miasma curled around your ligaments, hovering but unable to enter like it had with the others in the room. It whispered to you longingly, of ancient knowledge and power over others beyond your imagination, curling up your spine like a delectable secret. 

Perhaps it was unaware that an empath held self-control as a virtue above all else. _I am not interested in power,_ you told it firmly, _but I am to protect you if you will allow me this_. The scepter pulsed loudly, sending a brief gush of wind about you and then, well, fell silent. You supposed there was not really another way to explain such a sensation. With a quick swoop, you picked it up. Silence still. You turned the scepter in your hand this way and that, not quite sure what to make of it. 

The ricocheting sound of bullets caught your attention and you rushed over to the monitor. There were agents wearing S.H.I.E.L.D. gear entering into the chamber holding Loki and picking off the other S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. Imposters, you realized with dread. The false agents started approaching the controls panel that held the God of Mischief inside and you sprinted out of the room. 

Abruptly turning the hallway, you suddenly met a fire of gunshots and retreated back behind the wall. You suddenly felt utterly ridiculous. Director Fury had given you one task, to protect the scepter, and here you were bringing it out into the open battle. Even with your weeks of grueling training, you were no Norse god, no machine equipped genius, no unflinching assassin. You flinched as more bullets rang down the hallway, bouncing around the corner where you hid. All you had was this _useless_ stick--

You stared down at the scepter. The scepter stared back at you. _Well, may I?_ You felt almost silly for asking. 

“I see the scepter, repeat tell His Majesty I see the scepter!” a man called out as he rounded the corner, clad in S.H.I.E.L.D. armor. He raised his handgun to fire at you but a blast of blue light vaulted him down the hallway. The tip of the scepter smoked with receding energy. 

Oh, well, _this_ certainly changed things. You raced out of the corner and raised the staff, the rest of the four agents falling down easily with an energy bolt. You sprinted down the halls once more in search of Loki’s cage. A familiar muscular blonde ran ahead of you, and you pushed forward to catch up to him. 

Thor paused at the doorway and shouted suddenly, starting forward. You skidded to a halt at the doorway. With horror, you saw the door to Loki’s cage open, the slick dark-haired god staring at his brother with a bared grin and Thor speeding forward in a lunge. “Thor, no!” you cried out urgently, waving the staff forward, “He means to cage you!” The scepter blasted the God of Thunder in the shoulder and Thor ricocheted off to the side, slamming against the side of a wall. 

Loki’s gleaming blue eyes landed on you. “How kind of you,” he said, the smooth tone shuddering down your back, “to return to me what is mine.” 

You screamed suddenly as something pierced your shoulder and you fell to your knees. _Idiot!_ your mind ravaged, _another fundamental rule you’ve forgotten, to always clear the room before you enter!_ You let out a savage cry and blasted Loki’s agent square in the chest, sending him flying over the railing and down below. 

“Nice shot,” Loki murmured, eyebrows raised. Then he was suddenly in front of you, hands wrapped over yours as he pushed back the golden staff against your neck until your back met metal railing. “But perhaps you should learn to keep your eyes on your real enemy first, darling,” he hissed, pressing down against your windpipe. You coughed and gasped for air, hands wriggling to free themselves under his tight grip. 

There was a metallic whizzing in the air and Loki snarled before casting himself off of you, scepter once again his. The Mjølnir whirled towards your face and pulled back right before crushing your skull like over-ripened fruit under a heavy metal boot. You took in a frantic swallow of air and fell down to your knees, clenching the rail as you tried to catch your breath. 

“Leave her be brother,” Thor rumbled, “this remains between us Asgardians.” And then the hammer swung. 

It was quite possible you would die here, you thought faintly, but for some reason that did not scare you. What did was how the scepter hissed in the hands of Loki and the black smog seemed to weigh down the atmosphere of the room. You needed to help, somehow, but you did not know how. Director Fury’s words rang faintly through your mind.

What was it that he said, to make Loki a more _docile_ guest? 

Flashing white light blasted across the room as the two brothers fought. You raced forward, narrowly dodging an errant blast from the scepter, and rolled into the glass cage. Both siblings looked at you briefly, Thor in confusion and Loki with disdain, as the door hissed shut. The scepter and the hammer were closely matched. Thor grimaced under the unyielding strikes from his brother's own hand. The air crackled with charged electricity from Mjølnir but the lightning revealed to you the thrumming anxiety ridden in Thor's eyes. The fear of losing was painted like bold, white strokes against the dark, swarthy expanse. But that didn't seem right. No, there--the true storm was Thor’s anger and desperation, one that simmered violently from concern for his errant sibling. He wanted so deeply to save Loki, but from what? 

You pulled yourself out quickly from Thor’s inner gale. Remember Loki’s words, you chided yourself, focus on your true enemy. Precise empath manipulation required concentration and silence and this--this was anything but that. The glass encasement hardly muted their violent swings and blasts nor the vitriol of barbs the two brothers. You stared as Loki’s sweat-slicked hair fanned out from Mjølnir’s heavy arc, barely missing his forehead, and wild blue eyes narrowed behind the grip of an equally bright scepter. 

Focus on your enemy. 

You took in a breath and dived in. 

Malice, like a thick layer of fiery smoke that made you want to cough, and fury, unsurprising, typical. Indignation and an incredible sense of superiority. You sank in deeper, pushing through the buoyant rage that made everything else so foggy. But there--there it was, that characteristic agony all of these heroes held. It was a heart-wrenching misery, and you could not help clutch at your own chest, feeling it almost tear you apart. Hopelessness, despair, guilt, a faint glimmer of warmth, and something that felt like the straggled remainders of hope that darted past you so quickly, you barely felt it. 

Now you were choking. You clawed at your neck, desperate for something to breathe in other than this--this deluge of self-hatred that flooded within him. You broke off suddenly, eyes open wide, chest heaving to catch air that was not coming in fast enough. It had been but a momentary glimpse into Loki’s forsaken landscape but you had returned with a shuddering despondency that left you clutching at the ground beneath you. How were you to distract someone so broken, so consumed by his own desolation? 

There were a series of explosions as Thor crashed against the high metal walls surrounding the room, leaving a dent as he slid down with a groan. You did not know when, but Agent Coulson had appeared, bloodied and slumped against his side with something that looked like a cannon in his hands. Loki was drenched with murderous intent--the blast from the cannon had narrowly missed his chest but had broken his shoulder armor. No one was staring at you. Good--you preferred it that way, and let your mind race.

It was as though he had a millennia of emotions wrangling and twisting within like a web of knots. He was a god after all, you reminded yourself, and gods had the benefit of time. But even gods were subject to weakness. You would find it.

The question was, what to focus on? 

Thor let out a ragged battle cry, lunging at Loki. You tried pulling out his overwhelming negative emotions but quickly realized that there was simply not enough of you to consume the scorching chasm. You tried grabbing onto the slivers of guilt instead, pressing Loki to feel the weight of his own conscience, but found yourself literally expelled out of him. Bewildered, you picked yourself up from the ground, settling onto your knees. So much for that. 

Loki’s eyes darted to the side as if mulling over the option before narrowing on his brother. At the very idea of regret, his anger seemed to return tenfold, shouting something about a “Jane” that further enraged the God of Thunder. 

You tightened your hands into fists. No, no you would not be defeated. You lost the scepter, you could not lose this as well. This was what you _were_. 

There had to be something, you searched desperately, anything. Loki jumped and swung the scepter across Thor’s face, sending him flying back again and a deep sense of pleasure unfurled within him. There! Yes, there it was! You leaned forward on your knees, palms practically plastered across the glass at the sensation nipped you with giddy delight. 

Arousal. 

The faint lace of arousal that hung from the heavy drapes of bloodthirst and relish of pure, glorious power. Even as a god, Loki was still a man. And nothing could distract a man better than this. You grabbed hold of the feeling urgently before it faded, beckoning it forward, wrenching to the forefront with coaxing and whispers. Your fingers scraped into the glass shield, eyes focused intently on his face for any minuscule reaction as you began to seep the heady tide of desire into his mind. 

Loki paused for a second in battle, looking wholeheartedly confused and it gave Thor enough time to strike the Mjølnir across his brother’s chest. 

Yes, yes, yes! You rejoiced internally. This was it. This would do. 

You seized onto his burgeoning arousal, pleading with it to gather the surging current of his lust. Loki let out a wretched cry and staggered up slowly as Thor pursued forward. You sensed that heated need soon surpassed Loki’s own growing perplexity and now all you needed was to fight the rest of his emotions. _Please, please,_ you begged, _let the pleasure take you over, Loki_. Droplets of sweat rolled down the sides of your face and you felt a quiet whine escape your lips at your insistent pleas. To your own shame, you could feel wetness dampening your underwear at the shared connection. 

The God of Mischief suddenly snarled and turned upon you, blue eyes wildly flashing. “You dare toy with a god, insolent worm?” Loki yelled. His hands shook as he tightened his grip on the scepter. At his sudden attention, the bond between you suddenly broke. You sat rigidly still in the container. Even without empath abilities, it was clear to see the resurgence of fury in the cutting sea-glass of his irises. 

“She has nothing to do with our battle, Loki,” Thor panted, brows furrowed in confusion. He straightened the hammer once more to point at his brother. “Your vengeance rests with me alone.” 

Not dissuaded, Loki propelled himself forward, his mind clearing from your hold. He sped past a confused Thor to make way for the controls panel. Cold dread pooled at your stomach. You had heard Director Fury’s explanation for this cage. Loki pointed the scepter at the panel, a thin blue light channeling into the systems, and you heard the impossibly loud whir of metal doors spinning open below you. His maniacal laugh echoed throughout the chamber as Loki relished in your growing discomfort. 

A 30,000 feet free fall. 

“Leave her!” Thor shouted. Scepter and Mjølnir clashed again, but the sound was barely audible from the rushing air below. You dared not gaze down. Willing yourself to remain calm, you anxiously pushed the desperate hunger of desire into him once more. Loki dodged the slinging Mjølnir once more but his movements were a brush too slow. This would still work. With newfound determination, you relentlessly shoved wave after wave of lust at him with burning insistence as the clamor of racing wind threatened to release your control. 

_Please!_ You were practically screaming in your thoughts now, _please Loki, let me see you unravel!_ Loki’s expression was savage and you could see the heavy pants of his chest as he swallowed thickly. The Mjølnir struck across his back suddenly and he fell forward with a cry, scepter clattering down next to him. Loki’s knuckles were white and red as his hands clenched into fists. Thor was saying something now but Loki's eyes remained on you, lips open to a feral snarl. 

You didn’t even care how obscene or filthy your begging sounded. His livid blue eyes cut through yours with loathing and resentment but he shuddered violently. You stifled a hearty moan, feeling your own thighs shake as he grew so close to not caring anymore, so close to letting it devour him completely. _I beg of you, God of Mischief--my god, please let me see you cum, let me taste your desire, please pleaseplease my King--_

A ferocious roar cut across the room and you bit down a scream at your own release, hands pressing hard against the glass as an orgasm trembled through your body, making you collapse down completely onto your quivering thighs. Hair stuck to your forehead and cheeks from the exertion and you left with the deepest aching sensation to be filled. Loki laid surrendered on his stomach, breathing heavily, eyes closed. The Mjølnir rested on his back and the scepter was kicked out from his reach. 

Someone called out your name violently. The glass door suddenly opened and you fell forward, clutching at the ground to gather your balance. Natasha grabbed onto you, hoisting you up, but you could not make out a single word she was saying. 

The God of Mischief had composed himself. 

Yet even in his capitulation, Loki seared with deadly intent. Head still tilted to the side, his gleaming eyes met yours with a menacing glare. A crimson blush spread across your cheeks as Loki tilted his chin upward, tongue darting out to lick his lip slowly. You could not remember the last time you had felt such potent embarrassment and terror alongside one another. There were cuffs on him now, and more Avengers had rushed into the room. Thor jostled his brother up but Loki’s baleful leer had not left yours. You stifled a choke, unable to tear yourself away from the wickedness in which he raked his eyes up your figure.

A low voice whispered at the base of your neck and you froze. _Be warned that when I am free, little witch,_ the voice hissed and a malevolent grin spread across his lips, _I will destroy you completely._

  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been struggling to not continue this story, so here we are! Hoping to make this a short one.  
> 

***

You watched as the towering God of Thunder guided a hunched Loki back into his cell. This time, there was a pair of brilliant gold cuffs hanging from his pale wrists, the bands studded with gems and some sort of calligraphy in crimson ink. From the way it glittered and refracted under the light, you had a feeling this was not mere Earthling craftsmanship. 

You were not the only one that took note. The titanium-clad hero crossed his bulky, metallic arms, lips pursed thin as he glowered at Thor. “So you had those with you the whole time, huh?” Tony pointed out. 

The glare was returned with impressive intensity, Thor’s eyes narrowed like two slashes of glacial ice. “I did,” he hedged, “but it had not become of necessary use until now.” 

Your eyes took in the seemingly impenetrable grey walls that scaled high around you, now riddled with dents as though a child had pushed their fingers haphazardly through clay. Even here, the air was permeated by the stench of acrid smoke and the sharp, metallic tang of burnt steel and blood. Agent Coulson had left his own crimson mark against the wall. It had smeared when the medical staff came to retrieve him. 

If _this_ was considered necessary, you did not want to picture what the point of no return would look like. 

Tony let out disdained scoff. “Of course.” 

“Guys,” Natasha cut in, “let’s go back to the control room. Fury will be expecting us.” You followed the red-haired agent’s gaze to Loki’s encasement. The God of Mischief was sitting on the bed, arms folded behind his head, one lean leg crossed over the other. He made no means to hide the gleeful smirk that sharpened his cheekbones as he watched the little spat. 

With Doctor Banner now missing after plummeting from the helicarrier, Agent Coulson critically injured, and someone by the name of Hawkeye in a near-comatose state, the walk was somberly quiet. No matter what corner was turned, there were piles of rubble and piles of bodies, though apparently indistinguishable from the way S.H.I.E.L.D. agents hauled either into carts to clear the hallways. You darted your eyes to the ground. 

“Tell me,” Thor said, calling your name in a low voice, “did you impart any of your influence upon Loki during battle?” 

The two of you were walking side by side at the back of the group. The other three Avengers were speaking quietly but urgently amongst themselves, though you could not make out what.

“I did,” you assented hesitantly. 

“I thought as such,” Thor proclaimed, though he looked surprised all the same, “I had wondered why Loki turned on you so suddenly during our fight. He collapsed in battle when Mjölnir had not even struck him. Was that you as well?” You simply nodded. The god turned towards you and stopped, curiosity fully piqued from his raised eyebrows and earnest expression. “How did you manage to distract even the Trickster himself?” 

Well, you knew this had to come up _eventually,_ didn’t you? Lust was but one emotion out of many in your arsenal, subject to bodily reactions the way sadness might cause tears or embarrassment to redden faces. You bit down on the inside of your cheek. Yet, if there was room for any sort of shame, you felt naught for your actions during battle but rather for the frisson of warmth that plucked at your core at the reminder of a darting tongue and wicked eyes. Pushing that firmly aside, you held no particular stake in your chastity. 

You answered unapologetically. “I sensed his arousal during battle and induced an orgasm.” 

There was a fixed moment of silence and it was then that you noted the three Avengers ahead had not only halted their conversation mid-sentence, but had turned to face you with varying degrees of shock. Then all at once, a clamor of voices piled on top of one another. Truthfully, it was all rather difficult to make out over the equally raucous, guffawing laughter of Tony Stark. 

Thor’s entreaty certainly seemed the most troubled. “Arousal?” he repeated with a hint of desperation, drawing your attention back to him, “Surely you jest.” 

The longer you stayed quiet, the more Thor’s face fell, until you could no longer resist his near pleading gaze. “It was after he swung the scepter across your face--”

You couldn’t tell if the hallway shook from the residual damage of the battle or from the God of Thunder’s tightly clenched rage. “LOKI ODINSON!” Thor roared before barrelling down back to his brother’s cage. 

“It wasn’t my first choice, believe me,” you told the remaining Avengers earnestly, “but nothing else was working out.” The Captain remained steadfastly tight lipped, politely avoiding your gaze. You could not tell if the marked tension came from disapproval of your methods or from his normally modest nature. 

Natasha, much to your relief, finally let out a bark of laughter, shaking her head. “Just like practice,” she said cheekily, “you hit ‘em where it hurts.” 

Tony had quieted down to an appreciative chuckle as well. “Always the quiet ones you gotta watch out for,” he said, tossing a rather dashing grin at you. It was the first time the dark-haired hero had spoken to you directly. 

Truly, the most intimidating part of Tony was not the glinting red and golden suit of weapons but his eyes. The earthy brown reminded you of the way ground splintered during an earthquake, where one epicenter of an idea erupted, a million crackling thoughts danced in rock and dirt to chase one another down. He buzzed and hummed with an intensity that perhaps he and the other Avengers had gotten used to but you found yourself momentarily overwhelmed by his direct gaze. 

“So,” Tony drawled out and clapped his gloved hands, making a clanging, hollow sound, “how exactly do your powers work? Are you transferring energy between bodies? Are you creating it? Reconfiguring your own or theirs?” 

You fixed a pleased but surprised smile at him. Truth be told, you hadn’t given much thought to how exactly your powers worked and his questioning made you wonder yourself. “I suppose I can sense all existing emotions within an individual and manipulate them across a spectrum of intensity,” you mused slowly, “It’s difficult to make someone feel what isn’t there, as I would be imparting an even greater sense of my own will upon them, which is why I try to use what’s available to me. In Loki’s case, arousal was my last remaining option.” You paused thoughtfully. “As for the mechanics of it, I’m not sure how to explain it. It almost feels like I’m pushing or pulling an emotion towards me. But regardless of the direction, I form a connection with whoever I am manipulating and the emotion becomes shared.” 

Tony picked up on the implications immediately. “So when you ah, induced his orgasm…” 

“Correct. Due to the bond, I did as well.” 

One pair of rakish brown eyes quietly lowered down your body, as if they couldn’t help themselves, while the Captain flitted his blue ones rapidly to the ceiling, tilting his head back to hide the spreading blush. 

Natasha merely rolled hers. “Tony, _really_ ,” she chided, thoroughly unimpressed. She was shaking her head as the group trickled into the controls room. The screens immediately flickered on to show Thor slamming a fist against the glass container that entrapped Loki.

_“--You are my brother!”_

_“I am no brother of yours any longer, Odinson,”_ Loki seethed vehemently, _“Do you forget who you speak to, that you are in the presence of the Prince of Lies?”_

_“Loki, have I not told you that your parentage matters not? We grew up together. We fought and bled together. We have spent millennia from infancy to boyhood up till now. You are my brother.”_

You could hear the choked emotion in Thor’s desperate plea and you turned from the screen. This was private, recorded or not. No one protested when your fingers traced a half-circle to the left and their conversation was muted to murmurs. 

The metal clad hero fell into a nearby seat with a loud sigh. “So what happens now?” Tony grumbled loudly, running a hand through his thick, dark hair, “Banner is MIA, the two brotherly knights of yore are performing a tragedy, and New York is going to be under attack who knows when. Are we gonna wait for Gene Simmons to go through a change of heart to tell us where the Tesseract is?” 

You leaned over slightly to Natasha. “Who is Gene Simmons? I have not met this person yet.” 

“He means Loki,” she grinned at you, “Don’t mind Tony’s lame jokes.” 

Director Fury marched in, dark eye blazing so intently, it was a miracle there wasn’t a small hole burnt through his patch as well. He stared down briefly at the screen before him and took a seat.

“How’s Coulson?” Natasha asked. 

The Director was not a man of many emotions and his clipped reply of, “He’ll live,” hardly betrayed the fervent rush of relief that swept over you. You knew it had not only come from the rest of the Avengers. “The stab was close to hitting his heart but missed narrowly. He’ll be in the medical bay for a while but our team is patching him up.” Director Fury barked your name and you jumped. “Your mission,” he snapped, “was to stay and guard the scepter.” 

You lowered your head, unable to handle the full brunt of his furious exasperation. “I apologize, Director.” 

He sighed and pinched his eye shut. You could practically hear it rolling around his head, swirling frantically with the rest of his nerves. The Director hid his anxieties well for a human, but funneling his energy towards strategy and action had always been his preferred method of stress relief. “The Tesseract is still missing. Stark,” Director Fury called out, “what happened to that program you were running before the explosion?” 

“Reunited with its wife and kids in the afterlife. But let’s talk about your little program.” Tony was jeering, his folded hands tucked under his chin in a boyish manner, utterly beguiled by his darkening glare. At this, even the Captain stiffened. 

Director Fury was silent. “All right. In a moment,” he assented and turned sharply away from Tony’s protestations. The dark-skinned man walked right up to you almost expectantly and confusedly enough, with a strange hopefulness. His face, of course, remained stony. “Now, you told me that this scepter of Loki’s has an _effect_ on people. What exactly does that mean?” 

You were perplexed by the sudden change in topic but relayed your knowledge nonetheless. “The scepter’s very presence causes a spike in paranoia and conflict,” you explained, “It places a hold on the minds of those who are near, which Doctor Banner seemed to feel unconsciously when he reached for it.” You tilted your head to the side. “Where is the scepter now?” 

“Guarded and secure, but we can do better if that’s the case.” Director Fury reached for his earpiece. He turned to the side briefly and made out a list of security measures to be added onto the weapon, most of which was coded in S.H.I.E.L.D. shorthand that you were unfamiliar with. However, you distinctly caught the bit that mandated your presence if anyone was to enter the room. At that addition, you stilled. If Tony’s program was Director Fury’s first plan in retrieving the Tesseract, then...were you somehow Plan B? 

“You’re not affected by it, correct?” the Director resumed his questioning. 

You shook your head. “It doesn’t seem like it. Even when I was in the room, the miasma didn’t infiltrate me the way it did with the others,” you described, taking note of their confusion, “I even held and wielded the scepter without feeling myself lost to its powers.” 

“What do you mean by miasma?” Tony interjected, eyebrows furrowed, “The room was clear when we were there.” 

“That is how it looks to me,” you replied. Briefly, you wished you could conjure up the wisps of bitter black fumes but sorcery was no particular talent of yours. “There is a darkness that comes out from the scepter, like spreading smoke, and it enters into those who come into contact with it.” 

“Almost like a poison gas, huh?” Steve mused softly. His eyes held a strange, haunted look to them that quickly vanished. 

“Yes, I suppose so,” you contemplated. 

“So the more you use it, or the longer you’re in its presence, the more potent the poison...” Natasha trailed off, but everyone’s eyes all darted to the same screen. There was only one individual who had been wielding the scepter longer than your brief interaction with it. 

“How do we know if the effects apply the same to nonhumans?” Director Fury asked. 

You gazed down briefly at the screen, watching as the broad-shouldered blonde exited the holding chamber quickly, barely catching his crestfallen expression. The God of Mischief stood stock-still, clenched his fists, and then turned towards the camera with a stale grin before bowing at the waist. 

“Thor appeared to be equally affected when we were all in the room together. I wonder if my immunity of sorts comes from being an empath and the control I wield over my emotions,” you pondered quietly, “When I entered Loki’s mind, there was an anger that seemed to cloud over everything else, that made it difficult for me to see his innermost feelings. I had assumed that was his natural state, but perhaps the scepter has already infiltrated his mind entirely.” 

“So what,” Tony drawled, raising an imperiously high eyebrow, “we get the scepter’s poison out of him and Bullwinkle’s going to return the Tesseract to us out of gratitude?” 

Everyone’s eyes turned to you. You shrugged. “It’s worth a try.” 

\------------------

You had filled in Thor with the most recent events of the war room and he offered courteously to walk with you to Loki’s prison despite having just left there. There was an element of otherworldliness you couldn’t quite place that struck you dazedly whenever you were in his presence. Perhaps it was the effervescent golden glow of his wavy hair or the kindness that shone from the choppy seas of his irises. Perhaps this was simply godliness. The usually upbeat Asgardian was rather morose and his feet trudged slowly enough that you were easily matching his stride with your far shorter legs. 

What a stark contrast it was to the slick, ink-black tresses of his brother, of paper white skin that would surely crumple underneath direct sunlight. And surely they were brothers, your mind echoing Thor’s words, considering the sheer amount of time spent together. You recalled the forceful tempest of hatred and resentment with a shudder. What on Earth had happened to Loki? 

A wise empath knew that knowledge of their enemy was second to self-discipline. However in this case, you were genuinely curious more than anything else. “Did you sense any changes in Loki recently since you last saw your brother? Is he usually so…” you trailed off hesitantly. 

The corner of Thor’s lips twitched. “Prone for dramatics? Sneaky? Unpredictable? Yes. But vengeful and hungry for destruction,” the god sighed and shook his head. “No. The last I saw my brother, our battle led us hanging on the edge of the Rainbow Bridge, the connection between Asgard and other realms, like Midgard. Allfather came in time to pull us both up, but Loki just let go, the _fool_ .” Thor clenched his fists and you could hear how his throat tightened with his next words. “I thought him to be _dead_ ,” he whispered hoarsely, cutting you with those shining blue eyes, “I mourned for him. It seems as though wherever the Abyss took him, he has joined allegiance with some unsavory characters, to say the least.”

“I do not know if his time away from Asgard has changed him, or if it is the scepter’s influence or both, but there is a darkness to him that is different from the Loki who I grew up with,” Thor said fretfully. “Perhaps you have heard from the others, but I came down to Midgard as punishment from Allfather. He stripped me of my powers and Mjölnir to humble the arrogance that had always been strong in me. While I was away, Loki learned the truth of his parentage, a truth I had not known until Allfather revealed it to me. 

“Asgard used to be at war with Jotunheim, the Realm of the Frost Giants, a people we had battled fiercely in the past. During the last battle, Allfather had taken an infant, the abandoned son of Laufey, Ruler of Jotunheim, as a peace treaty, in hopes to one day rekindle a truce between our two worlds,” Thor explained softly, a deep sorrow marring his features, “But the Frost Giants are reviled by Asgardians. Loki and I had both grown up relishing in Allfather’s victories, of the decimation of their people, his heritage. He did not take the news well, as you can see.” Thor smiled wryly to himself. 

You almost staggered to a halt at the end of his tale. No, you chastised yourself, not a tale--this was someone’s life. And how intimately you knew this imprisoned god now, that it brought you a mild sense of discomfort. Yet here you walked willingly towards him once more. You hoped that this time, the smothering tar of Loki’s self-loathing would not drag you into that miry swamp with him. 

Delicately, you placed a hand on Thor’s forearm, nudging comfort towards him. He started at what you assumed was the sudden intrusion, as kindly as you tried to make it. You watched as his hands relaxed at his sides, eyebrows releasing the furrows to balm his wrinkled forehead, and a tenderness touched his eyes. 

“Thank you,” he murmured. You nodded and took your hand off of him. 

You felt as though Thor deserved to know. “At the deepest core of himself, your brother is consumed by overwhelming self-hatred. I’m afraid that the truth of his history has broken him in some way.” 

Thor looked away from you, swallowing. “I see.” A blanket of pain rushed over you and you breathed it down. 

“I can sense how much you love him,” you said gently, “how much you hope for him.” 

The god smiled down at you sadly. “S.H.I.E.L.D. wishes to bring justice to Loki for his past deeds, but I will not have him suffer as a criminal on Midgard when this is not his true home.” Thor looked hesitant. “Tell me, what else did you see in him? Is there any hope in him, anything at all?” 

“I have felt his hope,” you admitted, “He feels guilt and affection towards you as well. Faint, but it is there.” 

Thor grasped your hands earnestly. “Then I place him in your care. Please help my brother.” 

_Care_ , was it? You had never thought of your powers in a restorative manner. 

“I will try my best.” 

\-----------

In the main control room, a small group of four Avengers and one Nick Fury had crowded intently around the holographic screens. You had insisted on entering alone, not even with Thor, so that Loki might feel less on guard. They watched you enter into the looming metal chambers where the God of Lies stood regally in his clear encasement. The dark-haired trickster spread his arms out wide upon seeing you. The image quality was decent enough but the audio came in grainy, as though it had been tossed and sifted through rocks before tumbling through the speakers. 

_“Have you returned to pay respects to your King?”_

You stayed silent until face to face with the glass. _“You are no King of mine,”_ they heard you reply, voice tinged with confusion. 

_Did you not call me as much when you begged so desperately for my release?”_ Loki took slow, sly steps until only a few feet separated the two of you.

They watched the back of your shoulders jump. _“You heard that?”_ A pleased sort of smirk curled over Loki’s lips. 

_“How could I not when you were calling out so eagerly like a whore?”_

For a moment, everyone averted their eyes from the screen. “Steve, you look awfully flushed,” Natasha noted, eyebrows scaling to her hairline, “Do you need a water break?” The Captain coughed profusely at her comment and shook his head. 

Tony was unamused. “Did we send her in there to infiltrate his mind or his bed, because right now I can’t tell.” 

“We must trust in her methods, as odd as they may seem now,” Thor interjected heavily, “Without her assistance in battle, Loki would have proved to be a formidable challenge to take down due to the power of the scepter. We know there is much we do not see that she has privy to.” 

The group turned their attention back to the monitor as a high-pitched screeching noise garbled from the speakers. You pulled the nearby chair to you and took a seat, albeit gingerly. _“Perhaps...you sound just as eager, Your Highness.”_

_“Little minx,”_ the audio growled loudly with broken static at his snarls, _“I doubt you would even be able to handle a god the second time.”_

_“With all due respect, the first time proved to be rather quick.”_

There was a stilted silence, and then the room descended into a cacophony of cries and shouts. Nick Fury shut his eye, feeling it twitch uncontrollably, and hoped you knew what the _fuck_ you were doing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback and kudos are always welcome :)


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